The Forgotten Lion
by lastpaperbender
Summary: The story of Prince Aidan of Narnia, set between the Golden Reign of Peter et al and Caspian--the invasion by Caspian the First. Please Read and Review!
1. Disembarking

The wind off the sea was warm and smelled of clean salt, but Prince Aidan shivered all the same and pulled his rich, gold-threaded cloak closer around his shoulders. Normally the sight of Cair Paravel's shining towers and fair ivory roof would fill him with joy, but on this voyage he could only feel a faint sensation of dread and apprehension as he wondered what he would find there. The prince was slim and small, and far too serious in manner for his age for his fifteen years. His eyes were agate-gray and thoughtful as he watched the Narnian shoreline; he had a straight nose and generous lips which curved down slightly as he caught sight of the foreign banners aloft beside his father's from Cair Paravel's towers. Although he had the king's countenance and striking red-gold curls, he had the easy grace and soft speech of his tree-nymph mother, who had whispered tales of the early days of Narnia and the golden reign of the High King Peter and his brother and sisters over Aidan's cradle, and had taught him the ways of the talking animals and river-gods and nymphs during his boyhood. The queen had died last spring, while Aidan had been learning horsemanship with his kin, the royals of Archenland, away in Anvard; the Narnian court had just ended its period of mourning.  
  
No sooner had the black flags been taken down from Cair Paravel's cracked and venerable turrets than Aidan had received a summons from his father, King Evrain, calling his son home from Anvard with unseemly and unexplained haste. Now Aidan could see why—the banners of the uncouth and barbaric Telmarines from beyond the Western Wild flapped now in the wind beside the red-and-gold lion pennants of Narnia. The prince watched them coldly as his ship, the Clearwater, glided like a swan into the shipyard near the castle.   
  
Nearly all of the court waited on shore to greet him, including his father the king: Evrain had been a great, imposing man once, fire-haired, broad-shoulders, with a deep laugh; now the years had worn him down to a quiet, gray man, with weary circles beneath his once-bright eyes. He welcomed his son solemnly, planting a king's kiss on both of Aidan's cheeks, then gestured for the prince to walk beside him on the path back up to the castle.  
  
"The Telmarines are here?" Aidan hazarded after a moment.   
  
Walking with his hands clasped behind his back, Evrain nodded. "They have been at Cair Paravel these last three weeks," the king said with a sigh. "They claim they have come to sue for peace, but in all this time there has been no forward movement in writing the treaty. How infuriating they are!" Evrain clenched his jaw, and they went a little while in silence. "The Telmarine representative is their Crown Prince, Velaz…he has brought his son, Caspian, who is your age. I trust that you shall be courteous enough to show the boy around?"  
  
Aidan nodded shortly, but was secretly doubtful and disgusted. However, as coarse and uncivilized at the western Telmarines might be, a prince of Narnia was expected to be civil. 


	2. The Feast

After departing from his father, Aidan did not go directly to his rooms to change for dinner, as he was supposed to do, but went instead to the ruins of the great hall, where the High King Peter and his siblings had once sat enthroned. Vines and tendrils of plants had worked their way into the cracks that ran the length of the great ivory roof, causing parts of it to break and fall to the ground in some places. On one of these fallen pieces, Aidan caught sight of a small, russet form dozing in the slats of sunlight that flowed from the high, broken windows. "Darby!" he called out, and the fox shook himself awake in surprise.  
  
"Ah, princeling, thou hast returned!" The fox's voice was light and quick, as one would expect a fox's voice to sound—and Darby was the court's great storyteller and historian, always one for fine speech. "Hast been here long, prince?" the fox asked, sitting up.   
  
Aidan approached and sat down on another piece of the fallen roof to be at eye level with his old friend and teacher. "No, not long," the prince answered, smoothing his cloak down beneath him. "A few hours, maybe…I came in with Jan, the captain of the Clearwater, from Port Abriola in Archenland, and did not return until today. I have been taking council with my father until just now."  
  
The fox shook his head, pointed face as thoughtful as a fox's could be. "Not a day hath passed, and already thou are pulled into the midst of our struggles." He licked a coal-black paw, then jumped down from the piece of rubble he had been napping on. "Well, then," he said kindly. "Hie thee hence, up to thy rooms. Dinner is to be served in the lower castle in one hour's time, or thereabouts."  
  
Aidan nodded, rose to his feet, and sprinted away across the expanse of the old hall, smiling—being with Darby always made him feel like a young boy against, for all of the fox's formality and precise speech; Aidan had known Cair Paravel's storyteller as long as he could recall, for Darby had been one of the queen's great friends, and later Aidan's tutor. Heart lightened by fond memories, the prince dressed quickly for dinner, in the red-and-gold of Narnia, and came down to the lower castle where his father was preparing to dine with their Telmarine guests.  
  
"Good, you are here," Evrain said, stroking his gray beard thoughtfully and curling the ends neatly under with his fingers. "I asked Darby to send you straightaway." The king did not look at his son, but rather peered out over the ranks of people shuffling into the hall for the meal. "Look, there," Evrain whispered after a moment, holding himself still and dignified, but indicating the direction with his eyes. "There is their crown prince, Velaz, and his son Caspian." Aidan looked, and was surprised. The Telmarines were all dressed in finery like that of the Narnians, except their clothing was of many colors. Perhaps they are not so uncivilized as I had thought, Aidan thought. Velaz was a commanding figure, one that Aidan recognized easily, with a clean-shaven, square jaw, a proud hawk nose and dark, shrewd eyes. As imposing as the crown prince was, though, the prince's attention was drawn to his son, Caspian. He was a small version of his father in many ways; but as Aidan took a hard look at the other boy, he saw none of Velaz's cunning or deviousness; the face had not taken on that hard, angular quality, and those dark eyes looked about with curiosity and eagerness.  
  
Aidan continued his appraisal of the foreign prince as he took his seat at his father's left hand—as he leaned over to pick up his water glass, he saw that Caspian's eyes were upon him as well. The two of them sat frozen for a long moment, considering each other over the distance.  
  
"Ah...thou art curious about young Caspian?"  
  
The prince looked over his shoulder to see Darby spring up into the seat next to him. "And what thinkest thou of him?" the fox asked shrewdly.  
  
"I'm not sure...he is a Telmarine, after all," Aidan said thoughtfully. "I mistrust his father, Velaz--I don't know if the son is any better."  
  
The fox lapped a mouthful of water from a dish. "Perhaps 'twould be better to reserve thy judgement until thou knowest more of him?"  
  
Aidan's brow furled; then he smiled. "You're right of course, Darby. What would you propose?"  
  
"I am told that Telmar is naught but a barren waste to the west...young Caspian has not yet seen a living forest..." 


	3. In the Forest

"Don't make so much noise," Aidan admonished. "You'll frighten the little, silent animals away." A sour look crossed Caspian's face, but the Telmarine boy was noticeably more cautious as he walked. "There is something odd about this forest," he said after a moment, the resentment replaced by curiosity and a little fear.  
  
The Narnian prince looked sharply around, then nodded. "I forgot," he said. "There is little magic beyond the Western Wild. These are talking trees all around us—the tree-nymphs live in them. My mother was one of them."  
  
Caspian stopped suddenly. "Your mother…was a tree?" he asked, the expression on his face warring between wonder and disgust.  
  
"A tree-nymph," Aidan replied curtly, irritated by his companion's reaction. "She dwelt in a paper birch, until my father married her. She died last spring, after her tree sickened." He turned around and kept walking, watching Darby trotting ahead of them so that Caspian could not see the offense he had taken. Then he heard quick footsteps behind him, and a moment later the Telmarine was at his side.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," he explained. "It's just that…well …there aren't tree-women, back in Telmar."  
  
Aidan shrugged, his anger ebbing, and slowed his pace so that Caspian could keep up without tripping over the brush beneath their feet. "Some of these trees are my aunts and uncles, I suppose, just as much as my father's kin are," he reflected, taking amusement in his companion's discomfort before relenting. Then he stopped, and turned. "I've never seen a Son of Adam before," he said after a moment, looking at Caspian with new curiosity. "Only Queen Helen and King Frank were true children of Adam and Eve—but their children married nymphs and river-gods, so there are no true humans in Narnia anymore."  
  
"Weren't King Peter and his siblings Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve?" Caspian asked, brow furled.  
  
The Narnian prince nodded. "Yes, but they never had children. They disappeared into Lantern Waste long before my father was even born."  
  
They walked a little while in silence, each thinking about the strangeness of the other. "Tell me about Aslan, and about old Narnia," Caspian said at last, and Aidan wrenched his head around with surprise.  
  
"What? Why do you want to know about those things?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"We don't have anything to make up stories about in Telmar," Caspian replied. They stared at each other for a moment; then the Telmarine began to chuckle, and soon they were laughing out loud together. By the time Aidan had finished the last story he remembered from those his mother had told him, he and Caspian were fast friends. 


	4. Falling Apples

The tawny light of day's end glistened from the towers of Cair Paravel as Aidan and Caspian made their way back through the orchard, reaching up occasionally to pick an apple from an overhanging branch and to savor the firm, sweet fruit. Even though autumn was upon the land, the currents of the Great Eastern Ocean had retained some of that summer's warmth.  
  
"I've told you about Narnia," Aidan said thoughtfully, standing beneath one tree and running a finger over the freckled red skin of the apple he held. "What's Telmar like?"  
  
Caspian shrugged, ill at ease. "Now that I've been here," he said quietly, "I see there's very little about Telmar worth telling. It's dead, now that I think of it--dead and dull and barren. Our trees are nothing but dead wood, and the animals are nothing but dumb brutes." The Telmarine's hungry eyes searched Aidan's. "How did your land come to be so alive?"  
  
Aidan drew back, a little alarmed by the intensity of his friend's voice. "That was the way Aslan made it in the beginning--and so it has always been."  
  
"Aslan?" Caspian's dark eyes grew troubled. "Your lion-god, am I right?"  
  
"Yes, something like that."  
  
"What is he like, your Aslan?"  
  
The Narnian prince frowned slightly, and tossed his ruddy hair back from his brow. "I couldn't say--no one has seen him for centuries, since the High King Peter and his siblings vanished into the Western Wild. Certainly I've never set eyes on him."  
  
Caspian sighed, a deep, wistful sigh that spoke to Aidan of a hidden unhappiness; then he gave snort of bitter laughter. "There is a tale in our land--about a hunter, Maviv. He strayed into the woods one day, and, despite his skill as a woodsman, became hopelessly lost. He thrashed about the forest in circles for what seemed like an eternity, and fell at last, exhausted, beside a pool of clear water in a clearing. He put his lips to the water and drank. The water was so sweet and clear, it was like drinking life itself. When his companions came and found him by the pool, Maviv refused to go with them. They knew better than to drink the enchanted water, and carried Maviv back with them, raving and senseless. He died after a week, still thirsty for that water. I am like Maviv, Aidan," he said. "I think I shall die if I must leave this place."  
  
The red-haired boy looked at his companion, gray eyes troubled. "I hope you shall not have to leave," he said finally. "This land may be beautiful, and alive, but it is troubled. There has been too much fighting between Narnia and Telmar. I think peace would go a long way towards restoring the world."  
  
"You may be right, there," Caspian responded. "Do you think our fathers will make peace though?" He paused for a instant, then said, "Knowing my father, I do not think peace will come in our lifetime. He wants your land as his own, you know."  
  
Aidan nodded grimly. "I suspected so--but that was never much of a secret." He shrugged. "I do not know what my father will do--before yesterday, I had not seen him for over a year. He has changed from how I remember him."  
  
They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the eastern sea swallow the red sun and listening to the gulls as they sought their nests. "I am glad to have met you," Aidan said. "Come what may, I shall always think well of you."  
  
"There is one thing we may yet do." Caspian's voice was low.  
  
Aidan turned curious eyes upon his friend.  
  
"Let us swear an oath to brotherhood. Then, if we are worlds apart, or on the opposite sides of a battlefield, we will still have that between us."  
  
The red-haired boy hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, I would like that."  
  
They clasped hands for a long moment beneath the apple trees under the setting sun, each thinking upon what a strange thing it was to have a friendship like this in such treacherous times. As he looked at the swarthy hand in his own fair one, Aidan felt something brush up his back and neck, a feeling of premonition. He shook his shoulder, breaking the link of their hands, and wondered what it had been. 


End file.
